Not Quite Lemonade

 

It came to pass that one day, the fair damsel Elaine (my wife) purchased some lemons at the Store of Groceries.  For, she had decided to make a pie of which the name in the common speech is Lemon Meringue.

(And as pies go, it is in my top ten, which is high praise indeed).

This, apparently, is a good way of expending many eggs.  Our chickens are Holding Up their end of the bargain well and we have an abundance of eggs.

So it was that Elaine finished making the pie and she looked upon it and behold, it was very good.  And she ceased from pie making and the evening and the morning were the First Day.

There were, however, several lemons left over and this, is the story of one of those lemons.

The maiden, Victoria took one for to make lemonade with.  She took the lemon and cut it in the center part and proceeded to squeeze the juice out of it.  This done, she fished out the seeds that had made their way into her juice and proceeded to taste it and shared somewhat with her younger sister.

"Is it delectable?"  I asked them, although I could sense the answer to this question from the appearances of their faces.

"No, Dad," Victoria replied.  "It's terrible sour!"

Whereupon she went to the pantry and there secured some sugar and combined at least as much sugar as there was lemon juice to make a mixture.  And there was a small "sugar disaster area" in our kitchen besides after this adventure.

I, with great wisdom, suggested diluting the potent mixture with some water.  This done, a cup of Fairly Passable Lemonade came to be shared among the two girls.

I pondered on this simple recipe.  Victoria had understood the important ingredient of lemonade to be pure, unadulterated Juice of a Lemon and I suppose this is right.  It taketh lemon flavoring of some sort to create lemonade.

A little sweetener helps too.

I thought on the fact that many men and perhaps some women, believe themselves to have the fair gift of prophecy and to be speakers of truth.  They who have these gifts are not careful on whom they bestow their advice and criticism.  Further, few of them seem endowed with the gift of loving speech.

The end result is that their words are sour and bitter in mouths of those who are fated to receive them.  As like as not, they are spit on the ground, rather than taken to heart and made useful.

I took note.  For while it is a blessing to speak words of truth, Love is a wonderful Sweetener for such words.

As a great man once said, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down."

Mystery of the Missing Glasses

 

It was an event filled to the brim with tragedy.  “I was playing basketball,” my son Vincent intoned in a hollow voice.  “The basketball hit me in the head and hit my glasses too.  So, I took off my glasses and put them behind the basketball goal.”

“What happened then?”  I asked, feeling like a private detective interviewing a star witness.

“They vanished,” Vincent said.  “Elliot and I looked all over for them, and we couldn’t find them anywhere.”

"Did they just vanish because you weren't wearing them?"  I asked.

"No, Dad, Elliot still had his glasses on, and he couldn't see them either," Vincent said seriously.

It seemed like a case worthy of Sherlock Holmes, but when he did not choose to make an appearance, Vincent’s parents went out to look for the vanished lenses.  Despite our best efforts and a number of Tantalizing Clues, we discovered no sign of the Lost Glasses.

The next day, we made a more complete search.  There upon the lawn, Elliot made the discovery of his short lifetime – bits of a frame and one lens.  Then, I discovered the second lens nearby on the the grass.

The truth was Clear to be see.  Our Canine Pal, Aria, had made short work of these glasses.

(Fortunately, the lenses were not chewed or scratched and only needed new frames.)

Of course, no True Crime story would be complete without an analysis of the criminal’s Motivation.  This of course, is difficult when the Prime Suspect replies “Woof!” to all questions, but in extensive interviews, it is clear that Aria has a secret desire to read.

There are so many interesting books about dogs.  There’s “Go, Dog, Go!” and the Clifford the Big Red Dog series, and even that classic title, “Harry the Dirty Dog.”  I suppose it is understandable that our Lab would think that the One Thing keeping her from the world of books was simply having some glasses.

For those who are blessed with literacy (I’m guessing that most of those reading this would fall into that category), it is understood that there are no short cuts to learning.  The road to reading is paved with Vowel Sounds, Blends, and Diphthongs.  No special glasses will substitute.

So it is with things like understanding the Bible.  Paul told Timothy “Study to shew Thyself approved unto God.”  He was telling Timothy that the only way to understand Scripture is to spend time with it.

There is no secret road to reading, nor is there is a back way to having a deep knowledge of God's Word.

It is those who read and meditate and try to understand who will receive Knowledge that Passeth Understanding.  For this Knowledge comes from time well spent, not from special glasses.

"I Wuv You, Dad!"

 

One day, in the year of our Lord 2022, I was driving through the County Campbell on my way to a store where they vend items having to do with Hardware.  For our kitchen sink had a leaky faucet and unfortunately, Faucets do not fix themselves.

My two-year-old daughter, Elise, was in her car seat singing a Beautiful Melody that shared some deep insights on Bus Wheels.

On completion of her tune,  she announced to me, “I Wuv You Dad!”

These are the sorts of words that would make even the stone heads on Mount Rushmore melt just a little.  One can only imagine the feelings that stirred in my chest.  “I love you too,” I told my daughter.

“I Wuv Mom!”  She said.  This too seemed reasonable.  Although Dads are important, Moms are important too.

“I Wuv my Blankie!”  Elise shared next.  Then this was followed by the definitive statement, “I Wuv Gloves!”

For some reason, our two year old has an odd fascination with gloves – particularly ones that are much too big for her.

I suppose it is not unusual for people to mix up the words “love” and “like.”  Elise is aware of both of these words, but perhaps her feelings for her parents aren’t that much deeper than her desire for her special blanket.

The story of Jesus and Peter came to my mind.  It was a time after Jesus’ resurrection.  Peter had denied his Lord three times and perhaps it was with this in mind that Jesus came to His follower and asked him three times, “Simon (Peter), son of Jonas, Lovest thou me?”

 Each time Peter answered, “Lord, yea, Thou knowest that I love Thee.”

 Peter was honest, but perhaps his understanding of Love was but a pale shadow the Divine Love that Jesus had for him.  For, Jesus had gone to the cross for Peter.  The reverse had not been true.

 I am certain that my love for my Master is not nearly as Deep and Committed as it should be.  So often it becomes distracted and focused on things that are trivial in comparison to my Savior.

 Maybe it is similar to a young child who loves not only her parents, but also her blankie and gloves, with equal fervor.

Labor Saving Devices

One day, it so passed that our Mennonite Meeting House had a week of meetings that some call Revival Meetings.  These have received their name because of their reviving spiritual effects, for the meetings were Physically Taxing for those who endured until the end.

One evening, on returning to our home from one of these meetings, my wife noticed that the Youngest Damsel in our household was already enfolded in the arms of sleep.  So, Elaine put this damsel into bed with her clothes on.  It came to pass that Elise slept all night until the dawn and a little thereafter.

It so chanced that what with one thing and another, Elise wore the same clothes until evening when her sister, Victoria, exclaimed, "Mom, Leesy is wearing the same clothes as yesterday!"

It was true.

When I was a Wee Lad, still sleeping in the House of my Father, I had the notion that there would be much less laundry if only I would be allowed to wear my clothes two days in a row.  I am not sure why I was concerned about this, because my mother washed the clothes, but it seemed reasonable to wear them inside out one day and the following day to wear them right side out.

Hey Presto!  Suddenly half the laundry would be generated with no effort at all.

Somehow this Whiz-Banger of an idea has never caught on.  Perhaps the issue is that its inventor isn't famous enough.  Certainly it has never been tried on a global scale.  As I ponder the subject, part of the issue is that many types of apparel that come with buttons and zippers pre-installed, are difficult to put on inside out, but of course, living in the 21st Century, that should be easy enough to deal with.

Mayhap the number one reason for New Inventions is simply laziness.  The desire to do the same things with less effort is very motivating for humans.

Proverbs 13:4 tells us "The soul of the sluggard desireth and hath nothing, but the soul of the diligent shall be made fat."  Idleness leads to emptiness, while diligence leads to fulfillment.

The goal of human endeavor should not simply be to avoid work at all costs, nor should it be an aim for Maximal Rest.  A little labor is good for the soul and weary heads rest easier on their pillows.  I have become convinced that if folks invested the same effort in finishing their work that they use to get out of work, they might rest from their labors knowing that they were done.

The number of Labor Saving Devices grows larger by the week.  Perhaps the time will come when the Multitudes will need a special edifice simply to story their Gizmos of Laziness.

There is a cost for each one of these inventions and though they might prove useful, the Bigger Deal is to get the work done.  

For laundry must be done, even for those who wear their clothes multiple days in a row.  For while they may save time on laundry, they might lose friends through Increased Stinkiness.

The Miracle of the Prodigal Chicken

 

On the grounds of the palatial Waldron estate there live thirteen individuals who have Two Legs.  Seven have gone to school or will someday attend school, while the other six indulge in Fowl Language on a regular basis.

There might be other differences noted between those who make their abode in the Yard of Chickens and those who live in the House, but I will leave that for another Time and Place.

One day, it so chanced that my daughter, who has just turned seven, went to the Chicken Pen with the intention of Collecting Eggs.  She found some and then returned to our house.  Unfortunately, she Forgot to Shut the Door.

So it was, that an hour later I looked and behold, the door was Ajar.  On further investigation, only three chickens remained within the pen.

Now, we live with woods surrounding our home and there are many Critters that are glad for Chicken Dinners that they find when we do not pen our chickens up for the night.  So, my heart fell as I beheld our Chicken Pen only half full.

One chicken was found soon afterward in our yard.  Another chicken returned that afternoon and was permitted re-entrance to the Yard.  Of the sixth chicken there was no sign or feather seen of it.

All that afternoon I prayed for my Hen Neighbor to return by nightfall, but as the sun sank below the western horizon, I scanned the woods and saw no trace of her.  I felt a sense of discouragement, knowing that some racoon or fox in our woods would have a solitary feast that evening.

I had prayed quite a few times that afternoon for our Prodigal Chicken.  I gave it up that evening, knowing that she was a goner.

The next several days passed as usual.  The sun rose, although not with burning heat, for March in Virginia is anything but Toasty Warm.  I went daily to my Office. My children also went daily to their Institution of Lower Learning.

Then, five days later, my children discovered hiding under an outbuilding, a hen that resembled greatly our recently departed chicken.  She had no desire to come into the open air, but when she finally emerged, she was found to be no ghost chicken returned to warn us of some coming danger, but a flesh and blood hen, who was Hale and Hearty.

Whether she was there the whole time or only just returned because she missed us so much, I cannot tell.  Either way, it seems to me to be a miracle.

Matthew 18:12-14 says, "How think ye?  If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray?  And if so be that he find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth more of that sheep than of the ninety and nine which went not astray.  Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish."

I am no shepherd, nor does my living depend on the presence and vitality of my chickens.  Yet, my heart rejoiced greatly when the Lost Chicken was found.

I understood a little better my Heavenly Father.  His heart yearns for His children who are roaming afar, though they do not heed His voice.

It is not that He does not care for those of us who are within the fold.  He loves us greatly, but His heart breaks for those who are lost and prey for the Evil One.

His love is great and He cares for each one us, and welcomes us home.  For His excitement at the return of a sinner is even greater, if it were possible, than my joy at welcoming my Prodigal Hen back home.

Waiting on a Check Up

 

Within the Metropolis of Brookneal there is one store wherein are traded food stuffs that some call Groceries.  It came to pass that after work one day, I passed to this location on an Errand of Mercy.  For, I went with three silver pennies and a little more money besides, to purchase a gallon of milk.  Without this, my family would have suffered the terrible fate of drinking water.

It is perhaps surprising considering the size of Brookneal, but I often see people at this Market of Groceries who I know.  There are times when I even see an individual who is a patient at the office where I work.

On this particular evening, I met a man in the Dairy Aisle.  He was one with whom I am acquainted, and he did not seem very pleased to see me.

As I greeted him, he cast a rueful glance upon his shopping cart and I could see that it had within its confines Soft Drinks, Chips, and even a Couple of Packages of Oreos.  I felt within my heart that perhaps he too, was on an Errand of Mercy.

And yet, I said nothing.  For, I am no Angel of Judgment to whip my patients into shape when I am not with them.

"Good to see you," I said to him, by way of greeting.

"Good to see you," he told me in return and then grudgingly said.  "I think it's about time for me to come down and see you again.  Only, I need to get things into shape a little better first.  I'm afraid of where my numbers would be right now if you checked them."

I bestowed on him a smile of the rosiest nature.  "You know where to find me," I told him.  "Don't wait too long."

I am a Medicine Man, but I have also been a patient.  I know the desire that each of my fellow citizens has to get a Good Report and to hear the words, "Well Done, Good and Faithful Patient!" 

I know too, that honesty is more important.  It is better to get a real evaluation of where your health is, than to get a glowing report based on six weeks of Better Than Normal Behavior.

I am afeared that many believe the same thing about church.  It seemes clear that many believe the idea that churches are buildings wherein amazingly Holy lords and ladies go to celebrate their marvelous purity of character.

While this is a widespread belief, the reality is totally different.  I am a sinner, Saved by Grace.  This is true for every Christian.  If, Christians experience holiness, it is because of Jesus' work in our lives, not because there is some intrinsic Awesomeness that brought us to the Foot of the Cross.

While it might seem important to clean things up before setting foot in church, it is better just to go.  It is the sick who need a doctor.  It is sinners who need a Savior.

Jesus knows who we are and came to bring us Life, regardless of how dirty and stained we feel ourselves to be.  It is easy to put it off till we improve things a little bit.

Still, He calls us.

Don't wait too long.

Spaghetti and Joy

 

One evening, it so passed that I returned to my place of abode and my sundial showed that it was about six hours after noontime.  And behold, though it was a pleasant spring day, I found within my dwelling place much weeping and wailing, so much so that I wondered if my beloved wife had departed for some western state like Ohio, for to seek her Fortune.

On reaching the kitchen, I discovered my Beautiful (if a bit Frazzled) wife trying to Whip Up some spaghetti for our evening meal.

As I began to explore the reasons behind each of my children’s angst filled voices, I found different reasons, none of which seemed too terrible to me.

One child had a paper to write and was having a Hard Time starting on it.  Another child just had “Too much Homework!”  The youngest member of our household had foregone her nap in favor of a Full Helping of Misery.

To top it all off, one of our five Two-Legged-Sunbeams had decided that she Hated Spaghetti.  This was a singular development as spaghetti is close behind Apple Pie, Baseball, and Beef Jerky as something all true blooded Americans like.

So it was that our supper meal was a Mournful Affair with a sense of relative despair over the Small but Terrible things of this life.

I considered well the angst with which my family was afflicted.  Fortunately, not every evening is so filled with anguish, but it seems to me that this is simply a manifestation of a lack of joy.

Joy is that essential characteristic that allows humans to weather the small things and the large trials of life with a sense of hope.  As Nehemiah told the people, “This day is holy unto our Lord:  neither be ye sorry; for the Joy of the Lord is Your Strength.”

Many times I have experienced a lack of both Joy and Hope.  This is never because of a lack on my Father’s part, but only because I let the trials of life cloud my vision.

God is faithful and can provide Joy for every situation.

He even provides sufficient Joy to deal with Spaghetti for Supper.

"You're Not the Boss of Me!"

 

One day, in the country west of the city of Gladys, the weather became somewhat warmer and the Frosticles upon the eaves began to melt.  I bethought me to go out from my dwelling place and prune my fruit trees.

Now, it so happens that I have several fruit trees and even now their number approacheth and in fact is, seven.  Each year, I desire to taste their fruit and each year they Let me Down Hard.

For the frost cometh at the wrong time and weather does not Cooperate.  While there are many buds in the spring, there few fruits in the fall.

Yet hope, as has been said, springeth eternal.  With this thought in mind, I decided to prune those trees of affliction.  Yea and I even went forth to spray them with Horticultural Oil.

To this endeavor, my youngest daughter set out to accompany me.

As I lopped off crossing limbs, Elise went walking through the yard saying in a voice like a Spring Storm, “You’re not the boss of me!  You’re not the boss of Elise!”

Wise father that I am, I knew that Elise had heard this statement from her older siblings.

"You're not the boss of me!" is a statement replete with sentiments of rights spurned and liberties violated.  It is a statement of a Coming Revolution from an Oppressed Individual.

Perhaps even as I was pruning my fruit trees, they too were crying out wordlessly with my daughter, “You’re not the boss of me!”

It is often true that this is a human response to others who speak truth into our lives.  It would be a Sad State of Affairs if we were unable to receive correction or outside input into our lives simply because we are too afraid of giving up liberty.

There are many reasons for us to allow ourselves to be bossed by other people.  It may be better for our physical or spiritual well-being.  More than that, we may simply bear more fruit.

Perhaps the best thing to say would be something like, "You're not the boss of me, but I choose to hear the truth you speak and will endeavor to learn and grow from it!"

Living with liberty is worth far less than living a fruitful, victorious life.

Of Vertigo and Empathy

 

One evening, as I began to clothe myself for my bed chamber, the world began to spin.  Of course, the world is always spinning, but normally I do not feel it in this way.  It did not do this because of the quaking of the earth, nor was it because I had taken part in some intoxicating beverage.

As I have been a Medicine Man for others, I put on my Thinking Cap and diagnosed myself with the dread malady “Vertigo.”  That was all the further than I got.

While I have heard many times the Proverb “Medicine Man, Heal Thyself,” I have found diagnosing myself about my Max.  I cannot say that my diagnosis brought me either joy or comfort.

All that night I did turn, even without moving.  Yeah, and my stomach was Queasy as All-Get-Out, even to the point of Nausea.

The next morning, I was a little better and so I improved a little bit by little bit for the space of a week.  Then I was as good as before, but more conscious of the blessing of something called Equilibrium.

I have seen patients with Vertigo before in my office, but till now, I had little concept of how miserable it was.  Now, I know.

It was for this sort of situation that the Apostle Paul wrote, “If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation, and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer.”

Truly, there is no sympathy like the sympathy of one who has walked through the same trial you are experiencing.  Though people may be linked by blood or friendship, yet some are connected by the maladies which they share.  So it is that for some diseases there are meetings for encouragement called Support Groups.

It may be that the most important thing for someone dealing with a Trial is to know that they are not alone.

When we walk through a Hard Experience, we must remember how we felt during it so that we might encourage and sympathize with others.

Even if we experience so small a thing as feeling a spinning feeling when lying very still in bed.

The Puppy Stage

 

There came a time when our old dog, Zeus, being old and full of years (those sound like the same things to me, but it says that about Job in the Bible) died and slept with his fathers.  For, Zeus was about 105 years old, if those who say that one human year is seven dog years have truth.

(Since I have never seen a dog with a calendar, I think it likely that they do no celebrate birthdays every 52 days).

Lo, our family mourned for a space of time and then, decided that we should get a younger dog to be a part of our family.  We inquired in various places and discovered a nine-week-old dog that was mostly Lab and she, we purchased.

Very quickly, we discovered what I had forgotten – namely that Puppies are not the same as Old Dogs.  Aria was many things, but she was not Zeus 2.0.

 For puppies dig and not for Buried Treasure.  They also chew on many things, including pencils (that no one leaves on the floor), stuffed animals, and anything else that happens to fall on the floor.  

There came one day that I discovered Aria carrying one of my daughter’s shoes.  Now, Aria does not wear shoes and so I feel certain that she thought a shoe was simply a Lovely Thing on which to Chew.

As I think on it, I realize that Puppies are Tabula Rosas, that is, Blank Slates.  In a short time, they learn an awful lot.

In the months since she has been with us, Aria has become house trained.  She is (slowly) learning not to jump on people.  Perhaps other educational opportunities lie waiting in her future.

When someone becomes a Christian, in much the same way they are unlearned.  They know little of God, the Bible, or the Fruit of the Spirit.

Those things come with Effort and Experience.

I am afraid that there are many who are comfortable continuing in the Puppy Stage, far into their walk with God.  For ignorance is easier than learning and laziness is a trait that is all too common, ever since Adam and Even ate the Wrong Fruit.

There is a blessing in growing and learning, even in things of faith.  For they that would truly know Jesus must not remain Puppies any longer than is necessary.

Elise and the Bed

 

There is among the daughters of men a two-year-old girl whose name is Elise.  Now, Elise is a Precocious and Very Intelligent child.  I do not say this only because I am her father.

(Although I fully admit that I am biased).

One day it so passed that she desired to get upon the bed of her parents.  The sun was just past its noontide and Elise no longer taketh a Siesta, but rather she wished to Leap and even to Jump upon the bed.

Straightway she said in a voice of command.  “Shall she want to be up on the bed?!”

Several seconds went by without a response from Elise’s parents, or anyone else within our dwelling place.  Therefore, she said in a somewhat louder voice, “Shall she need to be up on the bed?!”

Unfortunately, once again Elise’s parents did not jump quickly to respond to her and so finally, she said in a very loud voice “UP!!”

At this word, Elise’s father lifted her up and set her upon the bed.

Now, perhaps there are fathers who only give their children exactly what they need and no more, but it pleases me greatly when I can give my children something they desire – even though it is not Absolutely Necessary for their Wellbeing.

It came to my memory verses from the Gospel of Matthew.  Jesus said, “What man is there among you whom if his son ask for bread, will he give him a stone or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent… How much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him?”

It seems to me that oft times we are afraid of asking for things, for fear that our Heavenly Father might think us selfish.  This, even though He knows both our wants and our needs and loves us in spite of them.

Shall He not also give good things to us, if we just ask Him?

Approaching the Great Physician

 

And it came to pass that one day I traveled along highways and byways of Virginia to a town wherein there is a single traffic light, two apothecaries, and a large Recycle Center.  There, within the town, I made my way to Carolina Avenue, where I found a building that houseth dispensers of Medicines and Medical Advice.

 It is within this very building that I labor, giving names strange diseases like “Upper Respiratory Infections,” “Diver's Tick-ilitis,” and even the dread malady “Arthur-it-is.”  Along with this occupation of naming illnesses, at times, I tell people What to Do and further, to Stop Eating Junk Food.

 Me thinks I am like a Voice Crying in the Wilderness.

 On this particular day, there passed my doors a man who was almost exactly twice my age.  This is more unusual these days, as I am no longer twenty-four and those few who are double my age are Very Old indeed.

 We discussed his various ailments, which were remarkably few, considering his age.  At the end of our time together I expressed this in the manner of all good Medicine Men, “You, Sir, are in very good shape for the shape you are in.”

 My young for his age patient chuckled a little and then replied, “You’re doing a good job keeping me going.  You don’t have very good material to work with.  And thank you, too.”

 I found a lot of humility in this little conversation and honesty as well.  And yet, I, who am a Medicine Man for many, do not ever think about the fragility of my patients, or that they are not Worth the Effort.  Rather I think of how I might help their various Illnesses and Speed their Recovery.

 I know that there are many times when I have approached the Great Physician, bowing myself at His feet and seeking healing and even victory over my weaknesses.  “But Lord,” I have cried many times.  “I know you don’t have very good material to work with.  Do what you can.  And thank you too.  Amen.”

 Though every word I have spoken is true, He does not send me away empty.  Instead, He works something Worthwhile in one who feels himself to be of Little Worth.

 For, the one who cometh unto Him, He will in no wise cast out.

The Parable of the Catalog

 

Lo, there came a day that my beautiful, eldest daughter arrived home from her Institution of Learning in a horseless carriage, that some call a minivan.  If it were known, Anna, is one of the favorite women in my life, albeit she does take quite a lot of time in the room of sinks and baths and sometimes bosses her brothers.  But that is Another Story for Another Day.

 Anna did go to the box wherein are oft found things like Junk Mail and Bills and occasionally Letters from Pen Pals.  When my eldest returned, she had with her two pieces of Junk Mail and one item that made my heart glow a little brighter.

 For, she had found with the other items, a Catalog from a Seed Company.

 Now, I am Full of Years and can remember when companies like JC Penney and Montgomery Ward and Sears Roebuck and Company sent Catalogs to our home.  At the time, I was still in my youth and lacking funds did not actually buy anything from those books.  Unlike those, I have been known to purchase things from businesses which sell things for My Garden.

 With some reverence I opened the glossy leaves of the Catalog and began to gaze at the different seeds and products found therein. 

For, Seed Catalogs speak to me of Spring Time coming.  Beyond the windows of my home, I can still see a white substance, that resembles sand, but is quite a bit colder than that, but as I look at Goliath Tomato Seeds, Yukon Gold Seed Potatoes, and Creme Puff Popcorn Seed, I can envision a brisk spring morning when I will begin to plant my garden.

 The great men and women who put together Seed Catalogs may not believe in God, but they certainly believe in His faithfulness in bringing around the seasons again.  Further, they believe that a Gardener and His Money are Soon Parted.

 Of course, the pages of each Catalog reveal images of perfect produce.  The names which have been given to the varieties tell, as well, of the glorious abilities of each vegetable:  Elite Zucchini, Perfection Zucchini, Super Sugar Sprint Peas, Incredible Sweet Corn, and many others reveal themselves as paragons.

 Truly, there are many gardeners, who plan in February for a garden of perfection, only to wonder, while drenched in perspiration in July, if they have Bitten off More than they could Chew.

 This is the way of life.  Many start strong, with visions of what the future could be and Dreams of Gardens Yet to Come, but with the Toil of Weeding and the Onslaught of Squash Bugs, comes a faltering.  The Vision is lost and some even give up.

 Just as in life, the Gardeners who keep their Vision and Persevere will be rewarded. 

 More than Zucchini awaits the Faithful.